Free Secret Brother by V.C. Andrews

grandfather’s friends?”
    â€œNo. There’s no one here now but Grandpa. How are you?” I asked.
    â€œI think I can now tell My Faith how Lazarus felt the moment he was awakened,” she replied, and struggled into a sitting position. “Let’s not talk about me, love. I’ll mend. I’ve had plenty of practice with sadness, as, unfortunately, you’ve had in so short a time. So? What is it? You look ready to take on the House of Commons.” She brushed strands of my hair away from my eyes.
    â€œGrandpa wants me to go with him to the hospital to visit that poisoned boy tonight. He thinks I might get him to talk.”
    She nodded. “Thought it might have something to do with that.” She sat back against her pillow but held on to my hand. “May I tell you something I’ve learned, love? There’s an abundance of mean, selfish, and uncharitable activity in this world. We’ll never lack for it, so we should always embrace the opposite wherever we find it. You’re not ready to care about anyone else. That’s understandable, but maybe you should think about it more for your grandfather than the little boy, as sad and horrible as his life is now.”
    â€œThat’s what Uncle Bobby was telling me.”
    â€œMy mum used to say you can spend your lifecoping with the unhappiness and disappointment you’ll experience, or you can spend more on the happiness and successes. Dad would tell her that was nothing more than seeing the glass half full and not half empty. Then they’d squabble about who said it better. They’d disagree over whether to put the milk in first or the tea, both quoting this king or that queen, but they loved each other to beat the band.”
    I smiled. Being in Myra’s company was like walking out to a cloudy day and suddenly entering a burst of sunshine. I hoped she would always be here to cheer me up. “So you think I should go?”
    â€œWe’ll never forget our Willie, but it’s important now to get your mind on other things, too. I can’t say I’m not curious. Aren’t you? Where’d this boy come from? Did the man who brought him just find him lying about somewhere? Why was he afraid to tell anyone anything? Who’d want to poison a little boy, anyway? Unless it was by accident and they were afraid of getting blamed, of course, but why was he so thin and small?”
    â€œOkay,” I said. “I’ll go with him and let you know what I’ve learned.”
    â€œI’ll be up and about when you come home. I just need a bit more of a rest. But I’m not taking those fog pills,” she added firmly.
    I hugged her and went looking for Grandpa. He was on the phone in his office. When he saw me in the doorway, he put up his right forefinger.
    â€œI’m heading there now in a little while,” he said into the phone, “but I don’t have much more to tell you. Suit yourself,” he added, and hung up.
    â€œSome police detective. He called my office to ask me more questions about the boy today, too, but I didn’t have time to speak to him. Don’t know why the police are hounding me about it. You go and do something for someone, and suddenly you’re the one with all the answers,” he muttered. “Like I can hand them all over, neatly tied with a ribbon on a silver platter. Everyone wants their work made easier.”
    â€œI decided I will go with you,” I said.
    â€œGood. We’ll leave in ten,” he said.
    I nodded and hurried up to my room. I never thought of my mother as a conceited person or even a little too much concerned about her looks, but one thing that impressed me about her was that she wouldn’t leave the house without looking her best, no matter where she went, even if it was just to the supermarket.
    â€œLooking messy in public says a lot about how you live your life, Clara Sue,” she told me. Myra